Chapter 1: Viral Wallpaper, Secret Husband

When I joined a reality show, everyone saw my phone wallpaper—it was a photo of the East Coast’s ultimate Ivy League heartthrob, the golden boy of old-money New York.

The second that image popped up on the big screen, the livestream chat lost its mind—seriously, meltdown mode. People were ready to roast me, and the snark hit hard—fast. Some rising star even jumped in with a jab: "Man, these fangirls are wild."

That night, the golden boy himself popped up on Instagram: "She’s got her man as her wallpaper—delusional, my ass!"

I’m one of the hottest names in the entertainment world right now, and to get people talking, I signed up for a major live variety show. The first challenge? Call your top-pinned contact and invite them to dinner. If they turned you down, you flunked the game.

The studio lights were blinding—felt hotter than usual, honestly. My fingers fumbled with my phone, desperately looking for an out. My palms were sweaty, and I could practically feel a million eyes glued to me, waiting to see me crack.

Savannah Lane sauntered over with a picture-perfect smile. "Maya, what’s on your mind? Scared you’re gonna bomb?" She’s a big name too—her whole career practically mirrors mine, my real rival in every sense. Her smile was all teeth, but her eyes—yeah, that smile never made it to her eyes.

Her perfume hit me next, sweet and sharp, almost dizzying. I glanced at her, saying nothing. Thing is, my pinned contact was probably asleep, thanks to the time difference. Even if I woke him, asking him to hop a transatlantic flight for dinner? Not happening. The thought made me bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to laugh at myself—who was I kidding?

Savannah clearly didn’t like being ignored. She leaned in, voice dripping with fake concern. "Cat got your tongue, Maya?"

The livestream chat went off:

"Maya Brooks is so rude! Savannah keeps giving her camera time and she just sits there with a sour face. Who does she think she is?"

"Bet her pinned contact is some simp, and she’s scared of getting rejected on air. Hahaha."

"For real, Savannah is gorgeous and sweet. Why bother with this rude chick?"

I snapped back to reality, meeting Savannah’s eyes. "Oh, sorry—I spaced for a second."

She smirked, totally egging me on. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s see it already." She even rolled her eyes for extra effect.

So I took a breath, unlocked my phone, and hesitated—my thumb hovering over the screen for a beat longer than necessary. Then I revealed my pinned contact. No cutesy nickname, nothing—just a single letter: "L."

The chat instantly blew up:

"Who’s L? Not even a name? Must be some rando."

"Exactly! She doesn’t even have friends in the industry. How sad."

I tapped the voice call. My heart pounded as the ringtone echoed—once, twice—across the studio. No answer. My anxiety spiked. Was he really going to sleep through this?

Savannah covered her mouth, pretending to hide her laugh. "What, not tight with your contact? Can’t even get them to pick up?" She shot me a playful eye-roll.

He must be knocked out. I didn’t even bother explaining, just braced myself for the call to time out. Savannah looked like she was settling in for popcorn, ready for my humiliation. "If you can’t reach your pinned contact, just admit—"

Before she could finish, the ringing cut off. The call connected. My heart skipped a beat.

A lazy, deep, magnetic voice came through the line—the kind of voice that could sell cologne on TV—just a little rough from sleep. "Hello? What’s up, babe?"

Savannah froze mid-smirk. The chat absolutely lost it:

"OMG, that voice! I’m dying! Someone call 911!"

"Did y’all hear him call her ‘babe’?!"

"If my Tinder matches sounded like that, I’d hand over my bank account. 😂"

"Wait, is that Maya Brooks’ boyfriend?"

...

I honestly hadn’t expected to wake him up. He usually turned his phone off at night. But all I wanted now was to power through this segment and move on. I sighed.

"Want to have dinner with me tonight?"

He sounded surprised, but amused. "Tonight? Your tonight or mine?"

Savannah made a face. "Who even says it like that?"

Her fans in the chat jumped in: "LOL, did she find some country boy?"

I ignored her. "Yeah, my tonight."

He didn’t miss a beat—his voice sharpened, instantly awake. "Sure thing, I’ll grab a flight."

I blinked. "You’re really coming?"

I heard some rustling, like he was actually getting dressed, then his voice, teasing and warm: "You never ask me out—of course I’m coming, even if I have to swim the Atlantic."

The chat went wild:

"Wait, international? He’s flying back just for dinner??"

"So that’s why she said ‘tonight’—time zones!"

"Who IS this Mr. L? Obsessed."

Savannah’s smile disappeared, her annoyance obvious. She all but stomped her foot and shot her hand up. "I’ll go next."

The host handed her the phone. She pulled up her pinned contact with dramatic flair—"Lucas Grant (Direct)" in bold.

Just like she wanted, the chat went nuts:

"Lucas Grant? Wait, is that THE Grant?"

"C’mon, it’s gotta be Lucas Grant—the New York kingpin!"

"Even A-listers can’t get near Lucas Grant, but she’s got a direct line?"

"Compared to Lucas Grant, who even is Mr. L? 😂"

"Ha! Maya thought she was going viral, but Savannah’s flex is on another level!"

Savannah did her best fake modesty: "Oh, it’s nothing. Lucas doesn’t like the spotlight."

She flashed me a smug little grin and tapped the call button. I watched, honestly curious how she’d play this.

Her screen flashed a WhatsApp notification—"Call failed: this user has blocked you."

Savannah’s face fell. She went pale, fumbling to try again and again, but nothing changed. She muttered, "Uh, maybe Brother Grant cleaned up his contacts and deleted me by accident..."

The host tried to rescue her: "No worries, Savannah, just call someone else."

I quietly exited WhatsApp, but my phone was still hooked up to the big screen. Suddenly, my wallpaper popped up for everyone: a man in a suit, eyes on the road, his hand on the wheel, black watch gleaming.

I froze, panic flashing through me—then scrambled to turn off the screen, but it was too late. Everyone had seen it.

The chat exploded again:

"No way! That’s Lucas Grant!"

"I’m about to pass out! Where did she get that pic? He looks like a Calvin Klein ad! 😍"

"Hold up, her wallpaper is Lucas Grant? Is she just clout-chasing on livestream?"

"Maybe she’s just a fan?"

"Even funnier. Does she not realize who she’s dreaming about? Like, girl, you think you’re marrying into the Grant family? I can’t! 😂"

...

The other guests stared, whispering behind their hands. Savannah shot me a look and pouted, all fake innocence. The host rushed to check on her. She covered her face, acting shy. "It’s nothing, just—some fangirls are really too much."

The chat:

"Yeah, Savannah’s actually close to Lucas Grant. She should tell him there’s a fangirl here clout-chasing!"

"Too bad Lucas Grant doesn’t care about Hollywood. Otherwise, I’d love to see Maya Brooks get owned."

Everyone picked up on Savannah’s shade and looked at me. I just kept my poker face, quietly disconnecting my phone from the screen. I could feel their judgment burning into me, but I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.

Because the show was live, this little drama instantly went viral. Someone clipped it and threw it on TikTok: "Savannah is savage—love her! Shameless fangirls, get lost!"

The topic blew up. Netizens piled on:

"Ugh, Savannah is such a queen! I’m cringing for that girl."

"She probably didn’t think Savannah would be so blunt. She looked like she’d just swallowed a lemon when she got ignored."

"How did she even get famous? She should just quit."

Savannah scrolled her phone and accidentally tapped into the trending topic. All the hate-filled comments were up on the big screen for everyone to see.

She froze, then panicked, glancing at me. "Oh no! How did this happen? I just talk a lot, okay? Maya, you’re not mad, right?"

Even though I was the one getting roasted, she acted all wounded. Someone instantly hugged her: "Savannah, you’re too nice. This stuff happens in the biz—it’s not your fault."

Savannah gave the camera her best innocent look: "As public figures, we’ve gotta watch what we say and do. Let’s all be careful out there."